chapped lips and hands on hips
by prettypinklips
Summary: There's a fight to be had, and he's oh-so very excited, because she's a burning flame, a spray of ocean water, a smudge of dirt, a howling wind all rolled up into one glorious, beautiful package. -— equalist!mako/korra. au.


**chapped lips and hands on hips**

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—

"Mako," she whispers his name in the darkness, body nestled beneath his, her soft curves meeting his hard lines, melding together, one being. He loves her like this, wanting, panting beneath him. Her naked body arches up into him as his fingers dance up her thigh, and he leans down, stifling his laugh in her neck.

"Korra," he whispers back, kissing her neck.

She tries to answer, but he cuts her off with a kiss, turning his head to deepen it. Her hands grip the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. She gasps into his mouth when his hand wanders down, past her navel, between her thighs. He grins against her lips.

His mouth is hot on her stomach when something other than a moan slips from her pretty mouth, "This is wrong." she pants, even as her nails claw at his back.

He looks up at her, eyebrows quirking, "It's right." he counters, pressing a kiss to her stomach. He snakes up her body, gathering her to him before rolling over. She nestles into his side, arm thrown lazily across his stomach. She kisses his chest before her teeth start worrying her lower lip.

"What if they find out?" she questions, eyes darting to the Equalist glove lying on his bedside table. "What if—"

"I love you." he says simply.

"But what if—"

"I love you."

Her eyes darken, and excitement thrums in his belly. He loves her all the time, but he especially loves _this_: her passion, her will, her strength, her fierce determination. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. It was what made him unlock her cell before Amon could take away her bending. Despite how hard he had tried, he had fallen in love with this miraculous creature, the Avatar. And she had fallen back.

But how opposite their thoughts on bending and the like were, how different. They clashed, and he loved it. They fought more often than not: bareback, teeth, clawing, sharp nails digging into his back. This was the kind of love he had been craving his entire life, the kind you fight for, the kind that takes everything out of you. The kind you read about. The kind you die for.

It amuses him to no end that the girl he'd fallen for, is the girl that stands for everything he doesn't believe in, everything he wants to tear down.

"Then _why?_" she questions, voice heavy, angry, "Why won't you leave him and come with me? We could be together."

These fights happened on the rare nights they were able to spend together. With her Avatar training and his work with Amon, they were only ever able to catch a few hours together few and far in between. Tonight was one of the blissful nights that they could back in each other's glows, from dusk until dawn. She had to be back at Air Temple Island in the earliest hours of tomorrow morning, and he was planning an attack on Republic City's pro-bending tournament the next night.

He squeezes her, "We _are_ together."

She squirms against him, "No. We're not. You're a monster—Or, at least, you're working with one."

There's a fight to be had, and he's oh-so very excited, because she's a burning flame, a spray of ocean water, a smudge of dirt, a howling wind all rolled up into one glorious, beautiful package.

She rolls on top of him, pinning him against the sheets, "I hate you." she hisses, "I hate everything you stand for. I wish I'd never met you."

He jerks upwards, kissing her. She kisses back, hands gripping either side of his face. He slips inside of her, and they rock together, in a slow and steady motion, just the way she likes it. "You're a liar." he breathes in her ear as she gasps out his name.

And the next morning, when she kisses him goodbye and tells him she loves him, he lies and tells her he'll think about changing sides, joining pathetic Team Avatar.

Only because he wants to keep her for just a little bit longer. And as he slips on his Equalist glove after she's gone, electricity sparking where flames had once ignited, he tells himself that they _can_ be. They _will_ be. They are strong enough to transcend the void their differences create.

(He can only fool himself for so long.)

—

_fin._


End file.
